"Hark 'ee, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; "you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night. "What weight are these irons?" asked Jonathan, coolly addressing one of the partners. These were his mistresses, Poll Maggot and Edgeworth Bess. The sun was setting in spectacular multicolored streams beyond Whitefield Park. "Here he is, waterman," exclaimed the benevolent carpenter. He spoke English with astonishing facility and with a purity which often embarrassed his tourists.
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